


The Light of Expiring Souls

by Echo (Lyrecho)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Multi, goes au throughout the game, semi-character study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:24:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrecho/pseuds/Echo
Summary: ...[many] references are made throughout scripture to 'the light of expiring souls.' In the Cosmogony, in the final verses of his final chapter, Nadir speaks of the burden he has faced throughout his life, having seen 'the light of souls and the time ere they expire' - proof to those that follow the Old Religion that Nadir was the prophet he claimed to be, the records of death he had taken upon supposing the time man and daemon would separate and leave this earth; humans to Eos' Field and daemons to the Unseen Realm of Chaos. Though unsubstantiated, the cry that these records are accurate leads to the question: then what about Nadir's prophecies? The Oracles of Tenebrae have long been silent on the topic of the Cosmogony and the chapters within [relating to Nadir]...
 - Antiqua, L. A Study of Souls, Vol.II: The Cosmogony. 4th ed. Gralea: Hugskot House.They say your daemon is meant to reflect who you really are, on the inside. Look to ones daemon, and written there you will find the truth of ones heart.But when it comes down to it, is that really the truth? |Tumblr|





	1. PROMPTO|01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reason why i hate opening chapters on ao3: notes are so screwy i have to come back and write them later, and you lot have already moved on. 
> 
> okay, so things to know: this is essentially an au of an au. backstory established within [|we're a broken people|](http://archiveofourown.org/series/596824) is pretty much the backstory i am going with here, just. with added daemons. for funsies.
> 
> it occurs to me now that since the monsters in this game are also called daemons this might be confusing. but since i headcanon that the daemons are the by-product of corrupted chaos (thus corrupted souls) and daemons are the physical manifestations of a persons soul...maybe it makes sense?
> 
> also i have no idea if they revealed who or what nadir was or if he/she/they actually had any importance in the plot whatsoever, so i am making All The Shit Up as i go along. think of the cosmogony passages you find in game (telling of the six, the oracles, the king, blah de blah) as, like, the new testament. nadir is old testament. or something. idk.

There is a time in Prompto's life that he doesn't like to talk about, when he and Danica didn't get along - so filled with insecurities and a deeply abiding sense of self-loathing, to simply look at each other had, at times, caused them an almost physical pain. That dislike had only grown with each day, sitting in class and watching their peers, daemon and human alike chatter and play together, wondering curiously and eagerly when they would settle; placing bets and boasts as to what they would settle _as_.

The divide between them had only grown as they refused to interact as human and daemon should, each yearning for the others presence but jealously guarding their own pride and refusing to back down first, and hating the other all the more for it.

It eventually came to a head during a mild day in the beginning of his last year of middle school - several days, almost a week since the small dog he'd dubbed 'Tiny' and watched over after he had found her injured had disappeared, with Danica's silence towards him even more pointed and aloof then usual - _so rather than just admitting that you're_ wrong _, you're so desperate for affection you'll turn to any stray mutt instead of me?_ she had demanded of him, the first words from her he'd heard in a long while and the only ones he'd heard since - that he'd discovered a letter addressed to him in the mailbox in front of his small unit that was always empty of everything except the junk mail that somehow always found its way there, without fail - the letter thick and heavy, made of what seemed to be an expensive cream card that glimmered in the fading light of the afternoon sun as it set below the artificial horizon line of Insomnia's high-rises.

He'd blinked as he felt at it, curious despite himself - it was definitely for him, that was _his_ name inked in elegant calligraphy across the front of the envelope; though she tried to hide it, body language stiff and nose in the air as she took on the form of a cat and stalked along the short brick wall that ran as a fence in front of the units they were residents in, Danica burned curiosity into the back of his mind too, and her far more sensitive nose picked up traces of what he couldn't - the stationary was perfumed.

_Huh_ , he thought as he stepped inside and nudged the door shut with one foot just in time to miss slamming Danica's tail in it, something he was glad for even as she puffed up and hissed and glared silent, burning accusations his way - after all, her pain was his pain. As much as neither of them liked it, the fact was they were one, and would be for all their lives.

Sometimes, Prompto thought as he placed down his satchel and moved to sit down at his cheap wooden dining table, he wondered if he and Danica would have been better off separated, like had inevitably happened to all the others like him back in Niflheim. Matron had snuck him and the others in his age group out before that could happen so they could live, he knew - but Danica was proud and arrogant and quick to anger, just like those of Niflheim, and he couldn't help but think that she would have flourished in that environment of stifling cruelty.

Yellow eyes glowing from amidst fur that rippled into a black darker than night glared betrayal at him, as Danica's anger shuddered between them as he ripped into the letter, and the faint perfume scent that Danica had picked up outside hit Prompto full force, and he raised the stationary to his face to breathe in deeply, wondering just where he had smelt the floral scent before, that it was _so_ familiar to him.

"Sylleblossoms," Danica snapped out, annoyance clear in her voice as he jumped, startling as she broke the silence that lingered between them. "They're native to Tenebrae, but some grow in the ranges that border Niflheim. Now, _what does the letter say_?"

Quickly, not wanting to anger Danica any further, Prompto scanned through the letter, mind automatically translating flowery prose into something readable as best it could. "It's from Tiny's owner!" He exclaimed, overjoyed as he read that the little puppy he'd been so worried over was okay. "She made it back home."

Rolling her eyes, Danica was a bird as she fluttered over to rest on the table before him, curling up as a dog similar in size, shape and colour to Tiny as she landed. Prompto didn't fully understand the meaning of the cruel jab he could _feel_ she was trying to shove his way, but regardless, he didn't care. A guilty weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he sighed, smiling so wide it hurt as he skimmed through the rest of the letter, surprise shocking him still as he finished.

_What, what?_ Danica's voice in his mind, her ears pricked forward as she nudged her wet nose against the letter, a demand in her tone that promised pain if he didn't explain himself, and fast. _What is it?_

Before Danica could grow too impatient and try to nip at him with those needlelike teeth of hers, Prompto place the letter down flat on the table, and with the tight sensation in the pit of his stomach that always came with a shift she was a moth, fluttering above speckled parchment that he now saw had sylleblossom petals worked into it – that plus the perfume soaked into it meant it was a personal stationary item if he had ever seen one.

A sensation he could only describe as white noise fuzzed over his mind, as Danica all but fell out of the air in shock.

_The Lady Lunafreya?_ She thought. _What?_

“I don’t know,” Prompto said faintly. “But…what she’s said here, about the prince…” He trailed off as Danica fluttered up to rest before his knows, and he didn’t know how, exactly, but even as a moth and without discernible eye, he could _feel_ the _look_ she gave him.

“It sounds like she thinks you’re friends,” she said. “Or, like she hopes you are.”

Prompto tilted his head at her. “You think she wants us to be friends with him?” He asked, blinking in a sort of confused shock at the very idea.

A cat once more, Danica landed softly on the table and rolled her weight onto her front paws in what he knew was her approximation of a shrug. “Don’t know why it matters,” she said. “It’s not like he’d want to be friends with _us_.”

There was a venomous scorn in her voice, and Prompto winced, flinching backwards a little. Even though life back in the facility at Gralea had been hard, Danica had been proud of their status as one of the first successes of the Magitek program – and while she had left happily enough once she had realized it was go or stay and be severed, she still had enough of the pride and discipline of one programmed as a soldier to be disgusted by what he had become – what he had let _them_ become, caught up in the sudden bewildering freedom to do and eat what he wanted in Insomnia after a lifetime of rules and regulations and schedules that ran like clockwork.

“We could _try_ ,” he protested, doing his level best to ignore how her words cut him deep, staring at the words the Lady Lunafreya had written addressed to _him_ , thinking as if he was something – some _one_ – important. “She says she’s worried about him.”

Danica’s shoulders hunched, her fur bristling – a clear _so?_

“We’ll just talk to him,” he said, and pushed his chair back to stand and slip the letter back into its envelope before placing it in one of the drawers in the tallboy just inside of the entranceway. “You don’t even have to say anything.”

She sighed. “You’re going to regret this,” she swore, and Prompto wondered at how people could say daemons reflected the truth of your own heart and soul, because he and Danica were nothing alike. He’d certainly never in his life been as negative as she perpetually was, and he was nowhere near as self-destructive, either.

Danica snorted, reading the thoughts of his mind as easily as she could his own.

“I’m not _wrong_ ,” he insisted.

“Well you’re not _right_ , either,” she hissed, and he knew that if they could part without pain she would have stalked away by now.

“We’ll try and say hi tomorrow,” he said. “Even if only to make sure he’s okay for Lady Lunafreya.”

“It’s not like you’ll be able to tell her either way,” Danica pointed out sulkily. “You, the rest of the people in this city…I don’t get what your deal is with this Oracle.”

“Well _I_ don’t get what your deal is with _anything_ ,” Prompto muttered, and moved to walk to his bedroom, gritting his teeth at the tug of agony that pierced through them as Danica stubbornly, obstinately dug her claws into the cheap faux wood of the flooring, neither of them wanting to let up and give slack to the bond pulling tight between them before the other. He’d been raised as a _weapon_ , and even if he wasn’t one, _refused_ to be one, he’d been trained – he knew how to deal with a little pain, and eventually, after a cold sweat had broken out all over him and begun to soak into his clothes and hair, was rewarded with a sensation of relief as Danica silently slithered her way into the small hall with him, in the form of a opalescent snake.

Panting slightly from the exertion of holding onto that determination of _no, I will_ not _be the one to give in this time_ , Prompto’s shoulders slumped, and he collapsed onto the bed, studiously ignoring Danica as she curled into the top corner of their mattress, just above his pillow, where they were close enough not to be bothered through the night but still not touch one another.

_You’re not going to eat?_ Danica raised her head to look at him, her eyes flat and black with a glint like oil-shine as her tongue flicked out, forked and tasting the air. _It’s only early_.

“Not hungry,” Prompto grumbled, and kicked off his shoes and socks, tugging his blanket over his shoulders. “Tired.”

A derisive hiss as she placed her head back down, coiling into a pile of shining mother-of-pearl scales. _If you say so_.

-x-

“I _told_ you so.” Danica’s voice was smug, and so assured was she of her superiority in that moment, with a flutter of wings a sparrow rested upon his shoulder. “You should listen to me more often.”

Lost deep within thought, Prompto almost didn’t hear her – and the cutting intent behind the words didn’t truly register as he brooded. “I just…” he began, and sighed.

“You need more confidence,” Danica stated, as they turned to enter their unit, the lights still off as they had been when they left that morning and the curtains drawn; Prompto didn’t bother to flick them on or draw them open, content to sit in the dark of his room. It complemented his mood.

_Drama queen,_ Danica grumbled, and flew across the room to land atop his camera. “Oi,” she said, flapping her wings wide to draw his eyes to her. “Come here; pick this up.”

“…Why?” Prompto asked, turning his head listlessly to stare at her.

“Because I’m smarter than you and I said so,” Danica said. “Prompto, _get up_.”

Sighing, he hoisted himself to his feet and trudged over to where Danica waited impatiently for him, her pale brown feathers ruffling as she shifted her wings in annoyance. She hopped down to the desk as he reached for the camera, pecking out at his fingers as they curled around the cool, cheap plastic of the camera. “What do you want me to do, Danica?”

“I want you to stop being so pathetic,” Danica snapped. “I want us _both_ to stop being so pathetic. We’re fixing this. Now.” She stared him down. “Take a photo,” she said.

Rolling his eyes, Prompto took up the camera and stepped to the side, so he stood in front of his mirror, and pressed down on the button. He turned the camera over in his hands to see the screen – he preferred his polaroid and film characters to the cheap digital camera he kept stored in his room, or kept on him for days spent at school or in the rain – blurred and underexposed from the relative darkness of his room, only a faint blue light pouring through the thin material of his drawn curtains. On the screen, he stood, captured in image, looking tired – and miserable.

“What do you see?” Danica said, and leant over the camera screen as he held it down for her to see, feeling what she wanted from him.

“…Me?” He said, at a loss for what she wanted from him. “Us?”

Danica sighed. “You’re hopeless,” she said, and stared directly up at him. “You see a _starting point_ ,” she told him, tone imperious, commanding. “You’re going to get better. _We’re_ going to get better.”

Her gaze on him was unblinking, unbreaking, and it saw right through him, to the very core that was her, looking through him back to herself.

It wasn’t quite… _reconciliation_ , he thought. Not really, not then – too many years of bitterness between them, too many hurts not yet healed to allow such a thing in their relationship, not yet – but there was a spark of _something_ thrumming in the link that bound them, something like hope or light, teetering on the edge of a height before a freefall. It could swing either way, worsening or finally becoming whole from its fractures once more - but in that moment in time, as together they stared down at the blurry image of themselves he held in his hands, Prompto felt optimistic for the first time in a long while - and thought that, just maybe, things would turn out for the better, for once.


	2. NOCTIS|02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh noct, you are adorable.
> 
> so, noct's daemon is regina. she goes by gina, mostly. she's unsettled.
> 
> gladio and ignis both have their daemons mentioned here, and we even get to meet ignis', but they'll get more in depth in their own chapters (ignis is up next).
> 
> and yes, ignis' daemon _is_ male.

When Noctis had first become old enough to truly register the meaning of his daemon's name, neither of them had been truly impressed - especially not with his father, who had merely shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips as he sent an amused glance Tempesta's way, his wolf daemon merely shrugging in response.

"Us humans don't get to name the daemons of our children, Noctis," Regis had explained patiently to his scowling son, who was holding an equally unimpressed Regina in his arms, in the form of a bear the size of a dog.

"You're not seriously trying to tell me you didn't get _any_ say at all?" He'd demanded, with all the presence a young prince could muster, and Regina had nodded vigorously.

"Your mother and her Glasnik liked it," Regis said mildly, a bittersweet smile crossing his face as he saw how Noctis perked up, eyes widening and lighting up at the rare mention of his mother and her daemon, Regina twisting in his arms to lock eyes with Tempesta.

"Really?" Noctis asked, his voice a hushed whisper.

Tempesta chuckled, her voice a deep, growling rumble in her chest as she sat down on her haunches and placed her head under Regis' hand. "Nik put his vote in for Glasnik junior, though. You should be happy that the name you ended up with was as good as the one you got."

"But...you named her after _dad_ ," Noctis had protested. "Gina is a _girl_ , you can't give her dad's name."

"And why ever not?" Regis said, playing at offense, even as Tempesta laughed and moved forwards to lick chidingly at Noctis' cheek - though she would never do such a thing in public, breaking taboo and causing a scandal, as (while it may be common among lower class families) the daemons of the line of Lucis had to be impeccable, always, and show the calm that their humans had to possess as members of the ruling blood, while in private Tempesta willingly and frequently showed the son of her other half and his daemon the physical affection they at times sorely lacked.

He giggled, and pushed her away from him, Regina reaching out with large bear cub paws to swat half-heartedly at her muzzle.

"Do not listen to your foolish father," she said. "Regina's name comes from one of the Old Tongues, same as yours, Prince Noctis. It has a meaning, as all names do."

Regina and Noctis had exchanged a curious glance at that point, the same thought burning between them - _what was its meaning?_ To Tempesta, Noctis spoke that question out loud - and his father's daemon merely smiled, showing teeth as Regis chuckled in the background.

"Learn the Old Tongue," Tempesta said. "And then, you will know."

-x-

It was the morning of his high school entrance ceremony, just a few hours before Ignis would arrive at the door of the apartment he had only _just_ managed to convince his father and Cor to allow him to stay in, _alone_ and with no guards - he wasn't stupid, though, he was fourteen years old and living by himself in an apartment building he was almost _one-hundred_ percent certain was populated entirely by Kingsglaive and Crownsguard members - and attempted to drag him out of bed, unaware that he was already up and dressed in his new uniform, tie tied properly and blazer already pressed into clean and crisp lines the night before, unable to sleep and not willing to remain tossing and turning in bed any longer.

Hey lay back against the lounge, as still as he could so as not to ruin the hard work Ignis had put into making sure this uniform was ready and as neat as it should be for him, befitting his status as a prince. Above him, in the shape of birds, shifting with each flap of her wings and buffeting between flight and fall in the period between each change - nightingale, sparrow, eagle, those little red crested wrens that liked to rest in the window boxes Ignis insisted he tended to ( _If you cannot look after a box of simple perennials than I fear for your ability to steward a kingdom - no offense meant, of course, Your Highness,_ he'd said, in that tone that meant every offense was meant in the nicest, snarkiest way possible, his Adole letting out a noise that may have been laughter, Gladio and Lisandre grinning in the background as Noctis blushed - Regina flew in circles, whistling the tune to some inane advertisement jingle.

Gazing up at her, Noctis wondered. "When do you think you'll settle?"

Pausing at his words, Gina almost fell out of the air - but then she was off again, and she said to him, in a cheerful manner, "I don't really know." She fluttered down as a dull feathered brown robin, resting on his chest with little pinpricks of talon and weight. Her head was cocked to one side as she stared at him. "You'd know better than I do when it's going to happen, I think," she said. "Everyone says that it's when _you_ find yourself that the daemon settles. You haven't decided what you want to be yet; why should I have to?"

 _Because I'm nearly fifteen and my daemon still changes,_ Noctis thought. _I'm pretty sure everyone in my middle school had their daemon settle by they were thirteen, at the latest. It's embarrassing._

He didn't say that out loud, too ashamed to admit he felt somehow lesser than his peers - and not because he wanted Regina to settle, he was fine with her just the way he was; had never been one of the kids to care about what shape his daemon would take once they grew older - but because of what Regina's refusal to settle just yet represented: the fact that he didn't know what he was going to be, what he _wanted_ to be, when he grew up - when in all actuality, he did. He was going to be a _king_ , and a king sure of his path shouldn't have a daemon still able to flicker between forms at the age of fourteen-and-a-half.

"You keep aging yourself up like that, and ten years will pass by before you know it," Gina said, voice amused as she watched over his thoughts and offered him her sympathy, loving and comforting him back to himself. "And we weren't the only ones by graduation to have a daemon not settled, that quiet blond kid that sat in the back - most didn't realise it, because she rarely bothered and he didn't interact much with others, but I saw his daemon change a few times."

"Well, they could have settled by now," Noctis pointed out, and raised a hand to gently brush fingers against delicate feathers like silk.

"I doubt it." Under his fingers, Gina preened, and her eyes, beady black with a glint of rainbow slick oil shine, all but winked at him happily. "If they hadn't settled by the time graduation rolled around, I doubt that it would happen just because they've entered high school. Sure, big changes can _bring on_ a settling, but I still doubt it would have happened. If his daemon hasn't settled by now, it's because she's waiting for something important, something big, and high school definitely isn't it."

It occurs to Noctis that, maybe, Gina isn't really talking about the quiet blond boy with the camera that sat in the back of his class for years, not anymore, and his hand stops moving along her wings.

"Gina, are..." He blinked at her, confused. "Are you _waiting_ for something?"

A moment of silence, of a stillness he didn't want to break - and then Regina was an eagle, and she had flown up to rest on his shoulder, to nip chidingly at his ear.

"Aren't you?" she asked.

-x-

In the end, high school (or at least the first day of it) isn't as bad - or as stressful - as Noctis was half expecting, half dreading. To Ignis' surprise and Adole's astonishment, they had already been waiting for them when they had pulled up in the carpark of their apartment complex that morning, hyped up on a lack of sleep and nerves, Noctis stamping his legs with his arms wrapped around his midsection in an attempt to keep warm in the misty morning chill, breath puffing out white in front of him as he exhaled.

"You're awake," Ignis had said as he'd pulled up, rolling the window down so Noctis could hear him. "A miracle."

"Ha," Noctis had barked out sourly, opening the door to allow Regina to flutter in before him - she'd decided she wanted to keep being an eagle for that morning ( _a majestic creature,_ she had said), and she pecked cheekily at Adole when the smaller bird flapped his wings at her in a reprimand.

"How long have the two of you been out here?" Adole demanded as Ignis shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. "Your lips are turning blue, Noct. The real _miracle_ here is that you didn't catch your death."

In his reflection on the windshield, Ignis' lips twitched. "Now, now, Adole," he said, and there was no mistaking the amusement - or the withheld laughter - in his voice. "I'm sure there is no need to stress His Royal Highness anymore this morning. The school will likely achieve that on a level not even _you_ could hope for."

Adole let out a derisive noise that _may_ have been a laugh, a sort of aborted half-caw as the Alpine chough hopped his way from his position on the backseat to rest in the passenger chair beside Ignis. "Did you at least make sure to pack everything we prepared for you into that bag of yours?" He asked, giving a pointed glance at the briefcase Noctis held still on his lap. "I won't forgive you if you've forgotten." He tilted his head back to glare at Noctis over the sharp point of his beak, and the prince instinctively raised his hands to his chest in a gesture of surrender - "I swear to you, I remembered," he said. "Do you want to check?"

"We believe you," Ignis said mildly, signaling a turn as he pulled into the final stretch of their trip - the car park of the public high school Noctis would be spending the next four years at.

He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. He'd been the one to insist on this - to come to a school filled with just _normal_ kids his age rather than private tutors or expensive private academies, but a thrill of fear still ran through him as he looked up, and up, at the expansive stone of the building that loomed above him, nowhere near as tall nor as gilded as the palace but also no less impressive or intimidating.

"Do you want us to come in with you?" Ignis, looking at him with raised eyebrows and warm concern in the rearview mirror, gaze on his hand and the way it curled around Gina, wishing desperately in that moment that she had chosen fur over feathers that morning so he could cuddle her, absorb her strength and draw in comfort. Feeling that urge, she butted her head against his hand repeatedly, nuzzling as best an eagle could into him.

"I'm fine," Noctis told Ignis automatically. _Begin as you would end_ , his father had always told him, and unless he planned to bring someone along as a security blanket from now until the day he graduated, then Ignis _wasn't_ coming in with him, not even to the entrance ceremony - no matter how much he wanted it.

"...If you say so," Ignis finally said, relaxing into his chair as his gaze turned forward once more. "Remember, today is only a half-day, and I have classes at the university this afternoon, so - "

"So you won't be able to pick me up. I know." He smiled at Ignis, if somewhat grimly, and nodded to show that he would be fine. "It's not a long walk."

"Yes, but if you decide you'd rather not expend the effort, Gladio and the Crownsguard are but a call away," he was reminded. "You have a cell phone for a reason; use it."

"I will," Noctis promised, and pulled open the door to swing his legs out of the car, shivering as the cold morning air swirled in against the thin material of his pants. "Promise."

Then, with a nod and a wave as he reversed out, Ignis and Adole were gone, vanishing back down the sluggishly moving road in the rush hours of the morning, fading into the grey of the pre-dawn horizon as Noctis stared, hand still raised in farewell.

He shuddered, once the car had disappeared from sight, and his hand dropped to stroke Gina, now resting on his shoulder. Affectionately, she pecked at his fingers, and excitement - impatience - bubbled through him as her head twisted to gaze at the school building that would be the place they spent the most of their time over the next four years in.

"The future is now," she marveled, likely referencing some inane television program that she had watched while Noctis slept, but even though he couldn't fully catch her meaning, he agreed full heartedly - something about that moment was just caught in time, hanging like delicate crystal off of a precipice, and one step forward would send them both into free fall, careening head first into _their_ future, on rails with no brakes.

"You _scared?_ " Gina taunted, and a smile tugged at Noctis' lips as he automatically swatted at her; she fluttered above his head just in time to miss being whacked off of his shoulder.

"Of course not," he said, and began to move forward. "Why would I be?"

A sensation in the back of his mind that might have been Regina's version of a shrug, and she laughed. "You always have liked to sweat the small stuff," she said, and - unfortunately - Noctis couldn't disagree.

-x-

The slow, somewhat casual half-day is something Noctis can only consider a gentle easing into high school life for poor first years who will later come to regret their own complacency. (He'd like to think that nearly fifteen years of Ignis will have prepared him for this, but more than anything he's prepared for the inevitability of last minute panic as his procrastination habits will eventually catch up with him in the worst possible way) But, for the most part, it was a fun day, mostly teachers trying to tell jokes and frantic scrambling to sign up for all of the best electives amidst relative strangers before all the spots were taken up and he was stuck with something like _pottery,_ again.

In the end, even the thing he had been dreading the most - the students - hadn't turned out to be all that awful; each person too distracted by their own worries and thoughts to pay Noctis all that much attention, precisely what he had wanted (though there had been a few girls that clearly hadn't come from the same middle school as him and heard tale of his legendary aloofness, because it had taken a good long ten minutes of unbroken, disinterested cold staring to get them to back off. Gina had been cackling silently the entire time; Noctis had almost - _almost_ \- started blushing, which would have defeated the whole purpose and act of being aloof, anyway), and the teachers hadn't treated him any differently, except to kindly pull him aside and assure him that they understood if any business ever had to take him away from school and that, with some warning, homework deadlines and exam times could be flexible.

He didn't want any special treatment - _at all_ , for the love of the Lady he only wanted to be _normal_ , just like everyone else; every other teenager his age - but at the same time, _understood_ that as the crown prince a certain level of special treatment was unavoidable. The bare facts of the matter were that, at times, he would _need_ to be pulled out of class, have his schedule rearranged around the fact that his schooling was a low priority. It hurt, it stung, and the urge to just _scream_ at his father always rose in him when he thought on it, as if it would help at all or make anything _better_ \- but, as always, Noctis reminded himself that his life wasn't _bad_ , not at all, even if he hadn't _asked_ for it, and Gina's soft, warm presence in the back of his mind reminded him that he was never alone.

And it is when he is thinking on this, wondering on how the day had gone so much better than he had expected and hoping that, somehow, high school would be better than middle school had been for him that a part of the paradigms that made up his world, the very fabric of his reality, immovable and unbreakable - _shifted_ , shattering and warping and reforming into something different, something new, something irrevocably unchangeable - but, perhaps, all the better for it.

On his shoulder, Regina jumped to attention - maybe not physically, but he felt her in his mind, a burning curiosity flicking to life as she stared back behind them, her head cocking to one side in what Noctis could only call the avian equivalent of _huh_ , as if she'd seen something she hadn't expected to, and was slightly stumped by it.

That was when a hand whacked straight into the small of his back, and Noctis stumbled, cursing silently but keeping the actual expletives to himself as a prince should, catching them behind closed mouth and gritted teeth just as he catches his balance before he crashes into the ground.

Slightly angry, and more than a little wounded (Gina _had_ to have seen that coming, _why didn't she warn him?_ ), Noctis forced down the snarl that wanted to form on his face, halting the spark of magic that wanted to be summoned, called forth to defend and guard as he registered blond bangs and a grin that promised mischief - the boy that had been darting around with his camera all day, taking snaps of anything, everything and _anyone_ that caught either his interest or a glimpse of his camera; almost every time Noctis had caught sight of him he had been laughing, flocked by crowds and lines of pretty girls eager to be photographed while their make-up and hair was still neat, buzzing over him to get themselves tagged in the pictures when he posted them online. The only reason Noct had paid much attention beyond that first fleeting glance was the spark of vague recognition that he had felt that had solidified into something real, an _a-ha!_ as Gina whispered to him, with no small amount of amazement in her voice, that that flighty, shiny boy was the quiet, shy blond kid she had mentioned earlier when she had been trying to cheer him up about the fact that she hadn't settled yet - and, sure enough, his daemon had been flickering through shapes all day, each one brighter and more colourful than the last as they showed off to their adoring crowd.

"Yo, Your Highness." The boy's greeting was friendly as Noctis stared, shocked by the familiarity he somehow managed to exude even when using a formal title - even _Ignis_ didn't manage to achieve such warmth in his voice, and his longtime friend pretty much solely called him Noct these days; he couldn't remember the last time Ignis had bowed to proper formality and used his title except in a public setting, it had to have been _years_ , at least. Besides the blond before him now, the only person he'd ever met to have acted so... _informally_ ( _scandalously_ , whispered a voice in the back of his mind, sounding offended and shocked and oh so very _Adole_ ) upon first meeting had been _Lisandre,_ and she didn't really count in that manner, he felt, considering she was Gladio's daemon.

"Hi," he said cautiously as his mind raced, standing up straight and wondering just what the boy _wanted_ from him - paying close attention to his daemon that sat almost unnaturally still at his feet, in the form of a snow-white fox that stared unblinkingly at Gina - the last time he'd seen a daemon that still, Noctis thought, had been the last time Cor and Kina had lingered in the palace long enough for him to truly appreciate the majesty of the Lord Marshall's lioness daemon, and the discipline she held as a soldier as true as the human she was bound to.

(He squinted at the two before him at this thought, and even Gina gave him an aside glance. Regardless of how aloof the daemon was acting, with how... _normal_ and utterly irreverent the boy seemed, there was no way the two of them were trained in _any_ kind of military.)

It was then that he noticed what the boy held in his hands – and he could be forgiven for not noticing it straight away, he thought, no matter how he had been trained to pick up on the glint of a paparazzo’s camera lens from a mile away, what with how he had _nearly been bowled over,_ thanks _, Gina_ – a camera, like he had been all day, but not the _same_ camera – this one was an old polaroid, the type that would spit out the pictures instantly rather than the sleek and silver digital one the blond had been parading around all morning.

“I thought I’d offer you a picture!” The boy – for the love of the Lady, Noctis could just _not_ remember his name, and if Ignis was here now he’d be getting scowled at; years of schooling in the same class as the blond, _why could he not remember his name_ – held out his camera and smiled, head tilted and eyes crinkling shut, and Noctis didn’t know how he or Gina had ever mistaken quiet for shy, because this boy was _blinding_ , and before he could say no, he found himself – caught up, swept up in the aura of _sunshine_ he seemed to exude – tucked into the boys side as he turned the camera around to face them, blinking as with a _shutter-click_ the light atop the camera flashed starlight into his retinas, and with a whirring noise the boy had pulled away, shaking at his prize – the picture he’d taken of them, close together: Noctis looking surprised, like he’d taken note of a projectile headed his way, and the other boy a mess of feathery blond fringe and white teeth.

It wasn’t a bad photo, he supposed. There were worse that could have been taken, especially since the other boy was likely to run off now, as flighty and distracted as he had seemed to be all day, and post his exclusive pic with ‘the prince’ online.

“Here.” Suddenly, the photo – glossy and bright – was shoved into Noctis’ face, and he reached up to take it automatically.

“Everyone else got a photo today except you,” the boy explained, when Noctis _looked_ at him. “So, I thought I’d make sure that you got at _least_ one – commemorative, you know? I mean, today was your first day in high school!” He all but sparkled as he said this, and Noctis couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at the sight of his enthusiasm – nor the warmth that began to spread as Gina nudged him.

 _Aww,_ she thought. _He was worried about you!_

A blush threatened to rise high on his cheekbones – _shut up_ , he thought to her, and she just laughed, her gaze still fixated curiously on the boy’s daemon, who remained silent and still.

“Oh!” The boy said, tracking their gaze down to his feet. “That’s Danica.”

“Regina,” Noctis said, instinctively returning the courtesy of having been introduced, gesturing at his own daemon as she ducked her head in some sort of bow, spreading her wings wide.

“Hello,” the boy greeted her, waving a little – it was considered rude for humans and daemons that did not belong to each other to interact before being introduced by the opposite party; now that both he and Noctis had brought their daemons into the conversation, they could all address one another without fear of breaking taboo.

Wasting no time, Gina immediately spoke up. “What’s your name?” She asked.

The boy blinked – and then laughed, running a rueful hand through the hair that fell in his face. “Probably should have started with that,” he said. “Prompto. Prompto Argentum.” At his feet, his daemon shook – her arctic white fur rippling into a muted pink-brown as she leapt to curl around his neck like a living fur scarf.

“Prompto,” Noctis repeated, committing it to memory – and then he reached out, and shoved Prompto – still trying to adjust his balance with the added weight of his daemon now resting across his shoulders – in the small of his back, similar to how _he_ himself had been attacked, only minutes before.

Thankfully, after the startled (and slightly offended) look left Prompto’s face, he laughed. “Yeah, I guess I kind of deserved that,” he grinned.

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed. “You really did.” He tilted his head, and in the back of his mind, Gina’s excitement hummed through his eagerly. “Hey, are you free this afternoon?”


	3. INTERLUDE| interview#01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. would you look at me. messing with lore and timelines.
> 
> yeah. not even a smidge of this is remotely canon :p

TRANSCRIPTION taken from AUDITORY INTERVIEW with DR LAUREL ANTIQUA. This TRANSCRIPT is a partial EXCERPT taken from the FINAL RELEASE VER. of the INTERVIEW, directed by [REDACTED]; the INTERVIEW available in its WHOLE at [REDACTED] [REDACTED].

NOTE: By ORDER of HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY IDOLA ALDERCAPT, all files relating to TRAITOR AND HERETIC LAUREL ANTIQUA are to be SEALED for ALL TIME, RELEASED ONLY under his EXPLICIT ORDER. To BREAK THIS RULING is to COMMIT TREASON in the eyes of OUR GLORIOUS EMPIRE and to BLASPHEME the good Grace of OUR GENTLE LADY, THE RADIANT EOS.

[REDACTED]: Thank you so much for taking the time to meet me, Doctor Antiqua.

ANTIQUA: (laughs) No, no bother - and please, call me Laurel.

[REDACTED]: Laurel, then. Now, did you have anywhere you wanted to lead this interview, or do you mind if I just jump straight into my questions?

ANTIQUA: Please, ask away. I'm here at your leisure, after all.

[REDACTED]: Thank you. Now, first of all - I want to talk about the controversy surrounding your last publication.

ANTIQUA: (laughs) You mean _A Study of Souls?_

[REDACTED]: (laughs) That would be the one. Not only did you _vanish_ from the public eye after publishing the last volume, within a week they'd joined the ranks of Niflheim's ever growing list of banned books. I hear there was a mass burning in one of the parks in Gralea? How does it feel to have your own people - your hometown - turn against you so thouroughly?

ANTIQUA: Oh, I'm not bothered.

[REDACTED]: Really?

ANTIQUA: Really. I've been in this field a long time, and I've grown a thick skin. Book burnings are the least of what I've faced, [REDACTED] - I assure you. And as for the situation in Niflheim right now...politics, as always, I suppose.

[REDACTED]: You suppose?

ANTIQUA: I haven't been to Niflheim in person for a very long time, [REDACTED].

[REDACTED]: Yes, and that leads neatly into my next question - _A Study of Souls_ was completed while you were in the ruins of Solheim, correct?

ANTIQUA: That's a common misconception, actually - Solheim isn't made up of ruins; the fallen empire that used the hold that name is quite run-down, as you can imagine - but it's also a desert haven for travelling merchants and those who seek to flee the war that grows around us each and every day. It's peaceful out there, really - a good place to complete a thesis.

[REDACTED]: An incredibly _long_ thesis. Seven full volumes, correct? Each focusing in on a different aspect of the soul, and the daemon/human relationship?

ANTIQUA: Thirteen volumes, actually. It's just that only seven of them were deemed fit for the public eye. But yes, my thesis did revolve around the study of what can be called 'the human soul.'

[REDACTED]: _Thirteen?_ That's - who, may I ask, blocked the publication?

NOTE: IN ACCORDANCE to the REGULATIONS set down by HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY IDOLA ALDERCAPT, the FOLLOWING BLASPHEMOUS WORDS have been STRUCK from this RECORD, kept for the SAKE OF PROOF against the TRAITOR ANTIQUA'S PROCLAIMED INNOCENCE.

[REDACTED]: And it was _mythology_ that drew you to study in Solheim?

ANTIQUA: If you want to call it that. (laughs) I'm a scientist, first and foremost, and that's what I wanted to study when looking at the bond between human and daemon, man and soul - even _I_ was surprised when my venture into figuring out the evolution of daemons sent me spiralling straight into a _historian's_ wet dream - ah, pardon the language.

[REDACTED]: No, no - it's fine, I swear, we can edit this stuff out later; the beauty of post-production. (laughs) But what _do_ you mean by that? Daemon evolution? I mean - we all know that humans went through evolution, but that was physical, wasn't it? What could possibly evolve about a _soul_?

ANTIQUA: Well...what couldn't? If you turn to the Cosmogony - _don't laugh,_ even if you don't hold faith in the scripture itself it is still an accurate depiction of life a thousand years ago, particularly the Nadir chapters.

[REDACTED]: The mad prophet Nadir?

ANTIQUA: Well, that's certainly how history remembers him. But before the crazy, he was just the same as you or I - an amatuer historian, you could say.

[REDACTED]: Oh, really? How so?

ANTIQUA: Well, if what I've managed to parse from translations of the Cosmosis is true - his daemon was the first to talk.

[REDACTED]: Skipping over that for a moment - isn't using the Cosmosis as a source a bit...well, it isn't really considered 'canon' in the scripture, is it? Most people see it as a cheap ripoff written back in the day after the Cosmogony started to really take off, trying to cash in on Nadir's fame. It's folklore, isn't it?

ANTIQUA: Well, first of all, the Cosmosis predates the Cosmogony by several decades - not only is the language more archaic, but the Nadir described within the pages of Cosmosis is considerably younger than the prophet at the center of the Cosmogony. Secondly, murals in Solheim depict tales seen inside the Cosmosis - and as we know, the fall of Solheim happened _before_ the Cosmogony was written, as it is described in great detail midway through the scripture.

[REDACTED]: If this is true, Laurel, then why haven't we heard about it before?

ANTIQUA: One word: Etro.

NOTE: IN ACCORDANCE with THE LAWS set down by THE ORACLES OF TENEBRAE, the following passages have been STRUCK from THIS RECORD, due to detailed mention of THE LADY BORN OF CHAOS, reffered to hereafter as THE INTERLOPER. By ORDER of HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY IDOLA ALDERCAPT and within the parameters of THE ANCIENT PACT ALL ARE HELD TO by virtue of OUR LADY OF GRACE AND LIGHT, THE BLESSED EOS, those that speak THE INTERLOPER'S NAME shall be DAMNED, NEVER TO KNOW PEACE IN OUR LADY'S FIELD.

[REDACTED]: I'll be honest with you, Laurel - this all sounds kind of crazy to me.

ANTIQUA: It took me a while to believe it, too. I've never been particularly religious - and growing up in Niflheim, it's hard _not_ to gain a little bit of disdain for Lucis' 'Lady' - but like I said; before anything else, I am a _scientist_ , and when the facts are before me, backed up by irrefutable evidence, I don't allow doubt or 'implausibility' to stand in the way of truth.

[REDACTED]: An admirable point of view.

ANTIQUA: Thank you.

[REDACTED]: I guess the question now is, what's next for you, Laurel?

[REDACTED]: Laurel?

ANTIQUA: Hmm? Oh, sorry - something Whistlet was telling me had me distracted. I apologise, that's incredibly bad form of me

[REDACTED]: Your daemon? If you don't mind me asking, where _is_ he?

ANTIQUA: Oh, Whistlet is shy. He's close, though, so don't you worry.

[REDACTED]: You never answered my question, Laurel.

ANTIQUA: Well, it's getting late. Do you think we could continue at another time?

[REDACTED]: I - uh - of course. So long as you _promise_ to come back, Laurel - I'm insanely curious to hear more about this 'sealed world' theory of yours.

ANTIQUA: (laughs) I'll be back as soon as my schedule allows.

TRANSCRIPTOR'S NOTE: The audio file was corrupted like _hell_ in some places, Nea. I'm pretty sure [REDACTED] just recorded every interview on the same tape, the madman - the file is _huge_ , it'll take weeks to go through it all, and that's even if we can salvage anything. It's being sealed anyway, right? Does the Emperor really need us to go through this _entire_ thing for him? Can't you just talk to Lord Verstael about this, maybe? Honestly...some of the things I've heard so far - I'm kind of freaked, Nea. Maybe find someone else to take care of this?


	4. IGNIS|03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good. good fucking lord. this went on forever and went (plotwise) approximately nowhere. i had no idea i had so much to say about ignis. like, at all. but apparently i did. and thus, a boatload of ignis y'all get. congrats.
> 
> facts of 'verse hierarchy: humans are generally on top, but the daemon of an adult or someone ranked much higher than you is free to talk if the person is younger or of lesser rank. with equals, daemons can interact and humans can interact, but if you address someone's daemon instead of them or before they introduce the daemon into the convo its basically a huge social snub.
> 
> last chapter, since noctis outranks prompto by a lot, technically regina could have been talking from the beginning with prompto unable to acknowledge her verbally, his station being below hers, but since noctis doesn't really care for that, he just complies to what is seem as normal by the common denominator of society.
> 
> i feel obligated to remind y'all at this point that _literally nothing is canon._

Adole settles young - _very_ young. Ignis is ten years old when his daemon flutters to his shoulder in the form of a bird dark as pitch, with blood red legs and a beak so brightly yellow it would likely glow in th dark. Deep inside, Ignis feels something _click_ , and knows in that moment why, exactly, they call it _settling_ \- because that is precisely what it feels like as Adole and he blink at one another in startled unison.

"You're...not going to change much anymore, are you?" He asks, and reaches up hesitantly, cautiously, to stroke the strangely new, strangely familiar glossy black feathers of his daemons wings.

"Not at all, it feels like," Adole admits, and tilts his head. "Is that a problem, do you think?"

As in-sync as they are, have always been, it's not hard to catch Adole's meaning, and both of their minds flash to the prince that will - one day - be their king; is already fast becoming the center of their world at the tender age of four years old. "It shouldn't be?" He states, unsure. "This is just proof we're on the right path in dedicating ourselves to Noctis. You wouldn't have settled if this wasn't the right path. This...is proof of our loyalty."

Adole is silent for a moment as he stares at Ignis, before he agrees. "Of course," he says, and hesitates. "Maybe Gladiolus should be the first to hear of this?"

Ignis blinks - before realizing, _of course_. If there is one person in the citadel that can help him when it comes to unusual daemon settlings, it is the boy two years his elder who serves as their princes shield-to-be, whose daemon settled only a few weeks ago, to massive uproar and cries of scandal.

(And - as much as he hates to admit it, even to himself - Ignis is glad for that fact, because with the novelty of Adole's gender having finally all but worn out among the tabloids and palace staff, the last thing he needed was an early settling to respark that fire. As horrible as it is, Lisandre's settling is much bigger news than Adole's own, and it should keep the heat off of him, at least for a little while.

-x-

Ignis had been six years old when he had been brought to the citadel of Insomnia, heir to an estate that no longer existed, thanks to Niflheim's relentless assault on Lucis territory, claiming more than they lost every year and drawing ever nearer to that final frontier of Insomnia - holder of the title of 'Count,' with no real meaning behind it.

He'd been a small child, overwhelmed and confused and tired, but also solemn and serious, standing as straight and tall and proud as a grieving and frightened child could before the King in his audience chamber.

"Ignis, is it not?" King Regis had spoken gently, something sorrowful and almost guilty showing in his eyes as he gazed down at the newest noble to - technically - join the Lucian House of Peers, a sentiment seemingly shared by his cabinet and council as they sat around him, descending around the throne in chairs showing a hierarchy that wasn't fully clear to Ignis as he stared at it with wide eyes.

"...Yes," he answered quietly, and bowed low, just as he had been taught to, though he hadn't expected to need to perform it in any sort of serious situation until he was _at least_ in his early teens, when he would be properly brought before King and Council to be inducted into the House of Peers as an heir to the House of Scientia, a loyal retainer to the line of Lucis. "Your Majesty," he added as he straightened back up, wanting nothing more than to step back and cower behind his uncles legs - his only surviving family member; his Uncle Luctus having been lucky enough to be in the citadel for work when the estate had been attacked, and summarily razed to the ground.

"And you are six years old, correct?" The King continued on, his gaze flicking all over him. "And your daemon? Where is she?"

"...He, Your Majesty," Ignis said, after a moment's hesitation. The truth was, in that moment Adole had taken on the form of a small serpent, and had coiled himself inside Ignis' shirt - for comfort, and for warmth, but also because his parents had always taught him to keep his daemon hidden from the public eye, for fear of backlash. And, sure enough - even at the age of six Ignis was sharp enough to pick up on the hisses of surprise, the recoils of disgust as he revealed Adole's gender.

Thankfully, the King was not one of them. His facial expression barely changed at all, save a slight raising of his eyebrows as he settled deeper into his throne. "He, then," he said. "Tell me, young Count Scientia, what do you plan to do now? Your estate and lands have been lost to you, true - but you still have a duty as a noble of Lucis to take care of those who fell under your authority and to your King; much the same as _I_ have a duty towards you, as one of my subjects."

Ignis blinked. "I'm not sure I understand, Your Majesty," he said truthfully, uncertain.

"With the loss of the Scientia estates, taxes will take a toll," the King explained. "To say nothing of the extra housing and strain your refugees bring upon Insomnia." The King held his hand up for silence as Ignis automatically opened his mouth to apologise, and, abashed as he realised he had nearly spoken out of turn before the _King_ , Ignis blushed. "In truth, the situation is not too dire, and even before they were people living under your authority on your lands, they are _my_ subjects. As well we can, they _will_ be taken care of, and that I can assure you." A smile, and the King suddenly seemed a lot younger - and a lot less intimidating. "But in return for the loss of taxes and manpower that ensues the loss of your family, Count Scientia, I require from you a very important, very _specific_ vow."

Surreptitiously, Ignis slid a glance to his side, where his uncle stood, to see if the man had any idea what was going on - but he stood stiff and looked confused, his lips stress-bitten and as bloodless as his pale face.

"Tell me, Count Scientia," the King said. "In accordance to the fealty you owe the crown, would you dedicate your life to my son?"

-x-

Having a daemon the same gender as you was rare, Ignis knew. It was also 'frowned' upon in certain areas - with how modern and progressive Insomnia was, boasting its own currency and all of the latest tech available to the world that _didn't_ come out of Niflheim, Ignis had almost expected that the Crown City would be different, but, no: whispers still followed him around like they had any time he had left his family's direct estate proper with his parents.

It didn't bother him - he was used to it - and in truth, he doubted it would come to bother him any time soon, given that his only loyalty and care was to the prince, newborn and tiny, with a small daemon to match - Regina, the wet-nurse assigned to watch over and raise Noctis for his infant years informed him with a smile when he peered over the edge of the crib to see the sleeping form of the one that he had sworn his life unto laying still, a small fist pushed into his mouth, which the wet-nurse - Monica - gently nudged away as she stood over him.

She was a member of the Crownsguard, Ignis had been informed, close enough in age and physicality (blood type, geologically aligned genetics) to the late Queen Aulea that she had been deemed fit to nurse her son; trained and vigilant enough to protect him should it come down to it. For the next few years, she and Ignis would be spending a _lot_ of time together - him, learning whatever he must to serve his prince while learning his prince as they both grew, and Monica staying by the prince's side until she was no longer needed, and the Lord Marshall (or the King, or both) ordered her away.

He was grateful for her presence, while it lasted - the Crown City was busy at the best and most mild of times, and with morale low with the Queen's death and the King's grief hanging like a cloud over the entirety of Insomnia; Niflheim pushing forward more and ever more, growing bolder by the day - well. It was far from the mildest or best of times, and very few people were willing to take time out of their schedule to help out an overwhelmed child. Even his uncle was harried to the edge of exhaustion these days, working himself to the bone as an attendant in the King's chamber in an attempt to gain the Scientia's favour and thus protect Ignis from the worst of the venom that would come his way as he and his daemon grew older - his age, innocence (and, dare he say, _cuteness_ ) protected him for the most part, at least for now, but as he grew out of the age group that brought adults to the instinct of _protect the child_ , and the prince grew with him, loving him and loving Adole as any child who had known someone all their life would; like a brother - well, it wouldn't be long before people grew even more jealous of the last Count Scientia gaining a direct line into the Royal House of Lucis when he had nothing, really, to offer his King or kingdom except servitude - and beyond that; it wouldn't be more than a few years before Adole’s gender was brought into it, people twisting him and his daemon and the bond they shared with each other and their prince into something poisonous, something to be ashamed of; something to be destroyed.

Ignis knew all this. The King had informed him of the hardships he would face, being the head of his own House and also a member of his son’s; his uncle had warned him, the _Lord Marshall_ had warned him. They hadn’t dumbed it down any or held back anything because he was a child – just given him the cold, hard facts. His life would be hard, they had said, and in the end, he may not ever think the hardship worth it – but he had stood _firm_. He could care less what others would say or think; he’d sworn to loyally serve his prince, and if there was one thing his parents had managed to teach him, it was that a man’s word was his bond. He was the last Scientia; he would _not_ also be known as the Scientia that broke ties with the kingdom his family had loved and served for generations.

“So long as the prince will accept my presence,” he had said, “I will stay.”

-x-

Ignis and Gladiolus got along just fine, he thought. At the very least, their relationship was amicable – even given their admittedly rocky start, a few weeks into Ignis’ permanent residence within the palace.

“You’re the Scientia kid, right?” Ignis had blinked up from his book to look directly into the eyes of a girl who seemed to be a year or so older than him, closer than he was truly comfortable with at that time, still highly strung from the destruction of his family’s estates and the period of days in which he and the survivors had fled for Insomnia – but he had been taught _manners_ from the day he was born (if not conceived) so he did not show his discomfort freely – at least, not until Adole, in the form of a mouse tucked into his sleeve, tensed into a stillness that had Ignis growing nervous as his daemon nearly fainted from shock, and whispered:

_She’s a daemon._

With wide eyes, Ignis took in the girl before him with a fresh gaze. She looked human – _entirely_ human, and while her colouring was rare, with vivid red hair and skin that would normally tell of Solheim’s desert ancestry, there were no tell-tale signs that she _was_ a daemon as she crouched before him, smiling – none at all, except for Adole’s words.

And since he had no reason to doubt his daemon – Ignis didn’t, and wondered desperately if responding to the daemon’s question would be breaking taboo – her human hadn’t introduced them after all, and he had no idea who she was, or of her standing – for all he knew she and her human ranked far, _far_ above him and she had been sent to _try_ and get him to break taboo; so as to give those that wanted to remove him and his abnormal daemon from the _citadel_ , let _alone_ the palace a cry to rally around and present before the King.

But at the same time – ignoring her was _rude,_ and if she somehow ranked below him, talking to her _should_ be fine, if slightly insulting to her human.

Desperately, Ignis glanced around for the daemon’s human – he couldn’t be _far_ – and Adole told him, _there_ ; his eyes flickered automatically to the place his own daemon marked out in his mind.

He recognised the boy that was staring at him, even if they had never met in person – Gladiolus Amicitia, the one who would become the prince’s shield, and Ignis was now glad, so _relieved_ that he hadn’t addressed the daemon – Lord Amicitia’s rank was so far above his own that Ignis wasn’t even sure he could address the boy himself; he was a direct member of the prince’s Household, the first member – technically, the second-in-command, Ignis’ direct superior and the voice of the prince until he was old enough to speak for himself, or _appoint_ his own separate speakers.

Lord Amicitia certainly felt Ignis’ eyes on him – he jerked his chin at his daemon, still crouched and blinking and smiling just close enough to Ignis that he feared she would break taboo and _touch_ him, and said, “Lisandre.”

The daemon – Lisandre, he supposed – waved cheerfully. “So, you _are_ the Scientia kid?” She repeated, and now given a blanket permission to address her, Ignis nodded cautiously.

“Great!” She cheered, and stood, dancing to Lord Amicitia’s side. “We look forward to working closely with you,” she said, and wound her arms around her human, who grinned.

“It’ll be nice to not be the only freak around,” he said, even as Ignis tensed at the insinuation and Lisandre hit at him, Adole beginning to tremble in his sleeve. “Most people round here are traditionalists. They don’t like the fact that Lisandre doesn’t like animal forms.”

“I’m gonna settle human,” Lisandre declared stubbornly. “‘ _Oh, Lisandre, you’ll grow out of this phase, you’ll see.’_ ” She snorted. “I like having apposable thumbs, thanks.”

Ignis just stared at her, wide eyed. Human settling daemons weren’t _unheard_ of – but they were _incredibly_ rare, even more so than the fact that his own Adole had been born the same gender as he; their case happened at least once a year, Lisandre and Lord Amicitia’s happened maybe once every few centuries.

But her words – stubborn and loud and _decidedly_ scandalous – drew Adole, so nervous and shy since their arrival in Insomnia and under the spotlight, so used to being hidden, out of the sleeve he’d curled up in, his mouse form – which had looked meek that morning – seeming, in the sunlight, larger than it had been.

Eyes lighting up, Lisandre pounced, scooping Adole out of Ignis’ hands to raise him to her face and smile in greeting – and Ignis _froze_ , terrified as he felt her fingertips brush against his skin, shoulders hunching as he waited for Lord Amicitia to start shouting, or beating on him with the wooden practice sword cinched to his side.

To his surprise, the Lord Amicitia did neither of those things – in fact, when Ignis cautiously glanced over to check if he had even _noticed_ (he’d heard that you could _feel_ it when someone else touched your daemon, even if it was only the lightest and quickest touch _ever_ ), he merely looked concerned, and slightly guilty, ashamed, as he, too, paled, and stared at Ignis.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Lisandre – she doesn’t mean to, but she’s not good with boundaries, and she likes you. I think she wants to be friends, and…look, if you just tell her not to do that again, she won’t. For the most part she’s good at not breaking taboo, but she’ll _push_. She likes affection, and it’s a bit harder to get when you’re not a kitten, I think…she doesn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Ignis said automatically, brain still slightly frozen. “Don’t be. It’s not like it’s your fault.”

The Lord Amicitia nodded. “So, are you cool with her –”

“- No!” Ignis broke in quickly, not caring for the fact that he was breaking protocol by yelling at one of his betters. Already, the sensation of Lisandre cupping his daemon in her hands and the two chatting happily to one another, not something he would be concerned about were it _any_ other daemon – felt _slimy_ , knowing that she had touched him as well as his daemon. It was disconcerting, and he _never_ wanted to feel it again. “Please, don’t misunderstand. I don’t want her doing that again.”

His eyes were fixed on the other boy’s as he said this, and slowly, Lord Amicitia nodded. “Like I said, that’s fine,” he said, and held out his hand. “I’m Gladio,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

For a moment, Ignis simply _stared_ at the hand, and then – “Ignis Scientia,” he said, and reached out to accept the handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

-x-

“So, you settled then, huh?” Gladio peered down at Adole, resting proudly on Ignis’ shoulder, his head raised high to show off his glossy plumage, his brightly coloured beak and legs.

“I think you’re an Alpine chough,” Lisandre said, seated cross-legged on Gladio’s bed with a textbook taken from the palace library open on her lap. She’d been pouring over pages of encyclopedias and bird-watching guidebooks for about an hour, almost since the moment they’d texted Gladio what had happened, and now she’d apparently discovered just _what_ Adole had settled as. “A member of the corvus family, the Alpine chough is loyal to its nesting place all throughout life, and they mate for life, too.” She sends a grin their way, and Gladio is smiling, too. “Sure sounds like the two of you to me!”

Lisandre’s final settled form isn’t too different from the one she has preferred for _years_ ; dark hair, skin and eyes as she smiles at him – one of the merchants from the desert oasis’s scattered around Solheim had visited the palace the year before, dressed in silk and gold and smelling of incense and spice, and Lisandre had fallen in love – Ignis was glad for the fact that he didn’t have to buy Adole clothes, and didn’t envy Gladio how much of his paycheck must be going towards keeping Lisandre happy and supplied with coloured silks.

At her words, and trying to ignore how the grins on both hers and Gladio’s face widen, Ignis blushes, and then turns his face to duck behind Adole when they burst into laughter.

“Noct will be happy, at least,” Lisandre nods. “Excited, you know?”

Gladio groaned. “Don’t remind me,” he snapped, and Ignis is reminded then – Gladio isn’t terribly fond of the prince, mostly because of the fact that in two years’ time, he will _not_ be moving on to high school – he’ll be tutored in the palace, as both Ignis and Noctis are now, because the majority of his time will be spent with training intensified, and training Noct in turn himself.

But for all his friend’s growl and bluster, and for all he is _genuinely_ aggravated by the lack of control over his own life – Ignis knows he doesn’t _truly_ hold any of it against Noctis, for Lisandre – even as independent and headstrong as she is – would not love Noctis as she does; would not cuddle Regina to herself and coo at every available opportunity.

Talking gradually devolves into nothing all that important, and Adole hopped from his perch on Ignis’ shoulder to rest atop Lisandre’s, spreading his wings for her curious perusal, pride puffing his chest out. For a moment, Ignis finds himself staring at them, struck again by the knowledge that this is what Adole is now. What he is, what _they_ are – no more changes. Perhaps feeling his eyes cast in her direction, Lisandre looks up to smile at him, and she waggles her fingers in a little wave – an invitation she extends to him daily, without fail.

As always, Ignis shook his head, _no_. Over time, the creeping sensation that came every time Lisandre and Adole interacted, from the fact that they had _both_ touched her at least once had faded, but he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of interacting with Gladio’s daemon on any level except the verbal, even though he had come to know her enough to consider her his friend on her own merits and without her connection to Gladio.

“You really need to drop that, Lis,” Gladio said, leaning around Ignis to jab chidingly at his daemon’s leg.

“Nuh uh!” She responded cheerfully, kicking away Gladio’s hand in a movement that is careful not to brush up against Ignis, now sitting just beside her on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll keep trying till the day we die, because one day he might say yes!”

Gladio sighed and rolled his eyes, and sent an apologetic look Ignis’ way.

“It’s fine,” Ignis reassured him. “I’ve gotten used to her.”

-x-

“Ignis!” Walking down the hall, his mind working to rearrange his schedule to Noct’s new one, he paused and turned, and looked to see his King – moving slowly, near limping with Clarus Amicitia hovering by his side.

“Your Majesty.” Ignis turned, and bowed low, raising his head only when the King stopped in front of him, not mentioning how he was breathing hard, or how his hand reached out to Clarus for balance.

“You’re going out to pick up Noctis, then?” The King smiled, but there was a deep pain and worry in his eyes as he mentioned his son – he hadn’t _wanted_ to let Noctis move into the apartment complex, Ignis knew, but had done it anyway, to keep his son happy; the least Ignis could do was to keep his King informed of what his increasingly distant son was up to.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ignis said, and Adole fluttered his wings nervously under Tempesta’s piercing gaze.

“His first day of high school,” Regis sighed, and closed his eyes, shoulders slumping. “He’s grown up so fast.”

Awkwardly, feeling as if he was intruding on a private moment, Ignis remained silent, giving his King a moment to recover himself.

After a minute, Regis shook his head, and smiled weakly at Ignis, reaching out to grasp at his shoulder – Ignis stiffened in surprise. For all the time he had spent with the King over the years, and for as much as he _knew_ he was trusted – the King had always been reticent with his affection even towards his own son; the warmth in his smile and the grip of his hand on Ignis’ shoulder was surprising, to say the least.

“Tell him I said hello,” The King said, and bowed his head briefly, patting Ignis on the back before moving on, Clarus still walking by his side.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Ignis bowed once more, and did not straighten until the sound of his king’s footsteps had faded.

-x-

That afternoon, leaving his final class, Ignis pulled out his phone to check if Noct had called him or left him a message at all. There was nothing, so he fired off a quick text at Adole’s urging – _do you need anything?_

Ten minutes later, when he had just pulled out onto the road, Ignis’ phone buzzed with what he could only presume to be a response, and he was very thankful for the fact that he had kept his flip phone when the rest of the world had moved on to smartphones with their heat registering touch screens, because Adole quickly jumped to pecking at the buttons on his keypad, flicking through menus and options to open up the text he’d just gotten.

“‘Fine for now,’” Adole read out. “‘Hanging with a friend.’”

Ignis blinked. “A _friend_?” He repeated.

“He must have made one,” Adole said, and sounded proud. “Good for him; our socially awkward little prince is growing up.”

“He achieved in one day what he hasn’t managed in years,” Ignis mused. “And he was so worried this morning, too.”

“I’m texting Gladio and Lisandre,” Adole said, and bent to peck at the keypad once more. “They have to hear about this.”

“They may already know,” Ignis pointed out. “The Crownsguard would not allow Noct to wonder about unguarded, not even in the heart of the Crown City.”

“Nah,” Adole said. “Lisandre would be blowing up your phone if she’d found out Noct had a friend.”

“True,” Ignis allowed. “Lisandre doesn’t really know the meaning of the word ‘restraint.’”

Adole laughed. “Gladio says he ‘can’t believe it, stop pulling my legs, specs.’”

Ignis snorted. “And Lisandre?”

“She wants to know when we get to meet our new friends.”

“Well that, I would suppose, is all up to Noct,” Ignis said, and signaled a turn.

“True,” Adole said. “Gladio wants to know if you can pick them up.”

Ignis raised a brow. “I suppose I may as well play chauffeur to _someone_ today,” he remarked. “Where are they?”

“Huh. The public library downtown, apparently.”

“Tell him we’ll be there in about fifteen minutes,” Ignis said.

“Will do.”

-x-

Adole settles early. The rest of the world may not have reacted well, but that doesn’t mean much to Ignis. _His_ world is very small, and very specific.

Lisandre and Gladio are happy for him, smiles and congratulations and Lisandre cuddling Adole to her like he’s coated in fur and not feathers. They know what it’s like to be judged for being _different_ , and they don’t ever hold it against them.

The best reaction, however, comes from their prince.

Noctis lights up the next morning, when Ignis comes to wake him – excited and sleepy at the prospect of breakfast, Regina yawns a greeting their way when they enter the room; when Ignis explains that Adole will not be changing any more when Gina shakes into the form of a small dog and demands to Adole follow suit and play with her, both his prince and his daemon cheer.

“You settled!” Noctis jumps on him, a hug, and on the bed Regina trembles with the excitement they must have shared. “Congratulations, Iggy!”

He gently hugs his prince back, and smiles, warmth filling him as he imprints this moment into his memory. People are going to ridicule him for this, he knows, as Adole does, and this moment reminds them – this is a happy thing, a good thing, and they should _never_ allow themselves to forget that.


	5. INTERLUDE|the figure lying asleep in the fantasy #01

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'jose,' you say, staring at me aghast. 'what's wrong with you. are you okay?'
> 
> 'no,' i sob brokenly. i am not okay. im never okay.
> 
> in other news, enjoy the chapter! it could make you less confused! or more confused, either way. who knows? certainly not me.
> 
> gladios chapter is coming next i swear.

1038 C.E. _(Cosmos Era, some 3000 years before current era)_

A woman dressed in the shades of pink and red that bleed into the sky at dawn finds her way into the Unseen Realm, which is - _explicity_ \- the land of the dead (why Bhunivelze and the fal'Cie could find neither Mwynn nor Etro; they were searching the mortal realm, the land of the living) and encounters the chaos of the sea of souls.

Being dead is an awful experience, and a terrible burden. The souls in the sea of chaos are eventually reborn into the world but until then - screaming. Ceaseless, endless screaming. The chaos doesn't discriminate. Murderers and rapists are swirling in the primordial soul soup with children and innocents alike. The darkness they carry can lead to _corruption._

Disconcerted by what she encounters, the girl dressed like the dawn encounters Etro, who explains what the sea of souls is, and tells the girl that if she is dead, she should have joined the sea, rather than keep her individual form upon entering the Unseen Realm

With no idea how to make the girl fade into the sea, Etro decides to leave her be. She's dead, what harm can she do?

The girl's name is Eos, and she takes refuge from the screaming souls in a field a little while away from Etro's Valhalla, happily tending to the flowers. On occasion, the eidolons who follow Etro will visit her. Sometimes the goddess Herself will visit her.

Eos is content.

Then, one day, she lingers to close to the edge of the field - and falls into the sea of chaos.

For a moment, she's terrified she'll fade - but she keeps her form and her individuality, as she always has, and then the only terror she feels is for souls that crowd in on her, crooning and laughing and dark as they whisper, _pretty girl, living girl._

With little left to their existence but the primordial energy of souls and fleeting emotions tied to singular memories, the dead are not too bright. Eos may be dead but she has a physical form, which is more than any of the souls in the sea can claim. In fact, considering the reason Etro became their Lady of Chaos was Her original death, Her first iterations suicide - then by the most basic of terms, with no heartbeat and trapped in the Unseen Realm, Eos is also a goddess.

And it is that which they hiss as the coil against her, invading her mind and her thoughts as she claws desperately to reach the surface - she doesn't need to breath and the sea of souls isn't truly made of water, but she's drowning all the same - _goddess, goddess, goddess, set us free, let us **LIVE** again - _

And then Eos is free, and gasping, and Etro is blinking down at her, face as impassive as ever.

"Those are the souls too corrupt to ever leave the sea of chaos," She says, and though Her words are neutral and Her voice a monotone, Eos feels chided.

"I'll be more careful," she swears, and casts an uneasy glance at the sea. "I _won't_ fall in again."

And she doesn't - relocates, in fact, to the center of the field that has become almost solely hers, a home as sure as the abandoned towers of the citadel that make up Valhalla are Etro's. Sometimes, Eos hesitantly leaves her field to visit the goddess in Her city of the dead, and watches as Etro coaxes souls out of the chaos and back into life; talks with Her as, in the background, Brynhildr laughs with the Shiva sisters and Etro - watching her - smiles in a way that lights up Her entire face, normally as still and pale as porcelain, as the corpse the myths proclaim Her to be.

Over time, Eos feels as if she is growing closer to Etro, and less afraid of the souls that cry out in the sea - and she summons up the courage to ask: "what did You mean, when You said the souls were too corrupt to ever leave the sea?"

Etro, Her eyes hazed over with a sigil glowing purple-white, looks to Eos and tilts Her head. "That they are too corrupt," she says, and Eos resists the urge to throw her hands up in the air and curse the crypticness that is her goddess.

"Well, yes, but - You let murderers and all kinds of horrible, horrible people have a second chance at life," Eos points out. "I've seen You do it. What's so bad about _those_ souls?" (well, beyond the fact that they're terrifying and cold and she can still hear their voices sometimes in her sleep, calling out to her softly: _goddess, goddess, kind lady of mercy, don't turn your back on us like **Her** , set us free, let us **LIVE** once more_ -)

Etro is silent, turning Her attention back to the roils of chaos that dance around Her as She works, and for a moment Eos is stunned as she thinks she is being ignored - but then Etro speaks slowly, quietly.

"I am neither judge nor jury," She says. "I do not reward, and I do not punish - the dead, at least; the living can, at times, be another story." A soft smile. "But here, in this realm and for these souls - I am merely a warden. I watch over them. I guide them when it is time for them to return to mortal world. And I make sure that those who would poison life can never leave this place."

Eos blinks. "Poison?"

"When the first Me arrived in this place, She encountered Mwynn being devoured by the chaos. Never misunderstand, Eos - I do not control the chaos, nor the souls within it, and sometimes they can choose not to hear My voice when I speak to them; only the fact that I, too, am dead keeps them from corrupting Me when those that spew forth venom and hatred infect the rest of the swarm. Souls are volatile, dear Eos - why I was so surprised to see you hold your individuality so easily when you arrived here - and the anger that burns within chaos can infect them all too easily. To let loose such malevolence on the worlds outside would be to kill those worlds. So, in the sea they stay, lest their corruption spread outside their pack."

Eos shuddered. "And I fell _into_ that?"

"Yes. I, too, was amazed that you did not join the swarm. Even as I pulled you from their grasp, I feared it would be a meaningless effort, and I would have to throw you straight back."

A moment of silence, and then: "I'm glad that you didn't have to."

"...As am I."

Over time, Eos explores more of the Unseen Realm, and learns more of the worlds of the living, what Etro calls the 'outside worlds.' There is more than just the world Eos came from and knew - there are many, and one in particular draws her attention as Etro allows the eidolons that live in Valhalla to lead her to a crystal, jagged and with many facets, each showing visions of the different worlds her goddess ferries souls to.

The world is wild and beautiful and vast - but most of all, the images of it in the crystal are dim, and when she asks why, Styria tells her that the darkness means the world is dying.

" _What?_ " Eos gapes.

Apparently, chaos - the primordial force of all life, the center of human sapience and the cornerstone of free will - is corrosive. A sort of eldritch entropy that kills even as it revives, and when Etro breathes life and sentience and will into the people of a world she grants that very same world a slow, agonising death.

The world is called Cosmos, she is informed, after the goddess of harmony they trust in as their patron. Whether or not Cosmos is real, no-one can say. Only Etro truly lives in this world as one of the divine, and whatever gods may exist in the living worlds do not concern Her.

"And...you're just going to let it _die?_ " Eos asks, bewildered.

Styria shrugs. To her, the mortal realm is exactly that - and eventually, all things mortal must die. It's no-one's fault that only the Unseen Realm is eternal. It just _is._

When she brings it up to Etro, she is brushed off with a similar answer, though at least the goddess that claims she was once human shows some measure of sympathy - "sometimes worlds die," She says. "And the people that live in that world die with it. But the souls are eternal, and eventually they will all be reborn into other worlds. So don't be sad, _please,_ Eos."

Eos smiles at her goddess as best she can, reassuring Her that she won't think on it anymore.

To her credit, she actually _does_ try - she just isn't very good at succeeding in this endeavour. She spends a few days away from Valhalla, tending to her field in an attempt to soothe herself and forget about the fact that a world is _dying_ , and no one seems to care but _her_ \- and tries not to think on how the sea of souls is always visible, just there in the corner of her eyes, and the hissing whispers of the souls that dragged her down so long (but also not so long) ago have quieted, as if they feel her attention on them and are waiting for her to make the next move.

So, she makes it. She stands up, brushes dirt from her knees and hands, and stalks with purpose to the edge of her field - kneels down at the edge of the sea, hands flat against the ground just above the 'waterline;' her hair falls into her eyes as she cranes her head over it.

"Before, you called me a goddess," she whispers, aware that Etro is probably keeping an eye on these souls, and not wanting her goddess to know about what she is doing even if she can't put a finger on why just yet. "What did you mean?"

A stunned sort of silence, a stillness of the waves as the buzzing of the souls in the back of her mind completely stops - and then they rise up, not physically but as a roaring crescendo of noise, and she feels fear flash through her as she realises - they're cackling, their joy a dark signal to any other corrupt souls lingering through the writhing waves of chaos, and then they are before her, expectant as they whisper out:

_Goddess, set us free, let us out, let us **LIVE**._

"But what do you _mean_?" Eos crys out, frustration growing. "You call me that, but I can't do anything. I'm not like Etro, or even like the eidolons - please, tell me, what does that word mean to you?"

_Come,_ they whisper. _Come, goddess, come with us, and we will show you. Come._

Eos swallows. The sea of souls - the chaos - breaking gently at the edge of her shore is lit with an iridiscent green light that she can't truly associate with Etro, even after seeing it all over the Unseen Realm at different times, different places - it almost seems to belong to someone else, and whoever that someone is - they're calling her, using the souls.

"Where?" she whispers, voice hoarse.

_To the Mother,_ they hiss. _To the First, the Mother, the Mother._

That means...approximately nothing at all to Eos, but the souls are humming eagerly and the glow is brightening and at this moment, she knows there is no turning back. _I'm sorry,_ she thinks to her goddess -

And then she steps into the sea.

The souls around her howl in triumph, and for a minute she's scared that this was their ploy all along, to trap her and drown her and corrupt her - but they're nudging at her now, pushing her along; _come, goddess, come._

She follows, and they lead her for what feels like a short eternity, stopping at the edge of a darkness that is more complete than anything she has seen so far, amongst the chaos - darker than night and blacker than black, for all she knew she had her eyes slammed shut because she would _not_ be able to tell the difference.

**|who have you brought me?|** a voice that is not a voice booms out, and Eos flinches as it scrapes through her.

_Goddess, goddess,_ the souls chant, pressing up against her eagerly - and bowing under the strength and weight they're forcing upon her, Eos stumbles forward a few steps, only to freeze and break out in a cold sweat as the darkness darker than darkness intensifies around her like something solid, something _tangible_ , something real and _very_ sentient as it stares her down to her core.

**|goddess?|** the voice that is not a voice resonates out. **|not the goddess I chose to take up my burden and watch over this realm.|**

_No, no, no!_ The chorus of the souls agree. _This one is better. Kinder. She will Help Us._

A terrible sound - one that Eos is horrified to realise might just be a laugh, and she wonders just how in over her head she is. This was a _mistake_. She shouldn't have come here, jumped into the sea - and the voice speaks again, their words almost warm. **|i do not think that is why this girl you call goddess has come,|** it says. **|child, what are you?|**

"Eos," she answers, before she can think to stop herself or of a better response. "I'm Eos."

**|as good an answer as any, I suppose,|** the voice rumbles. **|Eos, dressed like the dawn I have not seen in many ages.|**

Eos flicks a quick glance down at her dress, which she can't even see, the darkness she finds herself in is so absolute - before shyly, hesitantly looking forward and up, at where she thinks the darkness concentrates itself strongest. "I came looking for help," she says. "I don't know if you can help me, at all - but, please - could you just answer a few of my questions?"

**|it has been a long time since I talked to any others than the remnants of the Corrosion that surround us now,|** the voice says. **|your company is pleasing. at least for now, I shall humour you, Lady of the Dawn.|**

"You live in all of this chaos...do you know if there is a way to stop a world from falling once entropy has set in?"

**|remove the chaos,|** the voice says, **|and you will remove the entropy. but other difficulties would arise without chaos, Lady Dawn. do not forget that those that surround you are more than corruption and inevitability. they are free will. they are souls. the mortals that live in the outside world need these things, do they not?|**

Eos' mind was racing - she heard the warning, the words of caution, but most of all she heard the answer. "I know how to get around that," she swears. " _Please_ , just tell me how to remove the chaos; I _know_ how to avoid ending the world, with or without chaos."

**|...I am tired,| says the voice. **|come closer, Lady Dawn, and reach out your hand.|****

Doing as she was told, Eos reaches out - and her hands close around warmth that she can't feel, but has to see with her mind's eye - yellow-golden, like some of the flowers that grow in her field, and she pulls her hand back to rest against her chest, vision and head still swimming with flashes of a light she can only liken to the sun she hasn't seen since she washed up on the shores of Valhalla.

**|the last of my light,|** the voice says, quieter now - fading. **|use it well, young goddess.|**

_Goddess, goddess!_ The souls cry out, swarming around her like they're trying to burrow into that flesh, claim that light as their own once more. How long had the voice they called the First, the Mother been kept down here, chained by the weight and age and pure volume of the sea, and of the chaos that made it up? How long had they coveted this light that was buzzing through her?

"Back!" She crys out. "Get _back!_ " She flings out her arms, wondering at how the world was suddenly so much brighter, _clearer_ , even though she was still immersed in the sea of chaos - and began to stalk forwards, cutting through the swathes of souls that crowd up around her, pleading for her attention.

She doesn't know how she knows where she is going, or how she manages to get there so fast - when the souls had guided her to the voice, she hadn't been able to tell up from down from left or right, and it had felt like time had slowed to a crawl and stretched into eternity - but within minutes, seconds, a blink, she is crawling onto the grey sand shore of her field, dry as she climbs out of the water that is not water, stumbling as she stands and walks away from the souls still crying out behind her as fast as she can.

She knows what she needs to do. Now, she just needs to do it.

The crystal that lies in Valhalla would be useful, helpful for this, she knows - but Etro will know the moment she steps foot into Her direct domain, so instead Eos heads for the pool of water that bubbles from a stream, crystal clear, that runs like a winding snake throughout the entirety of her field. Not as good as the smooth surface of a magical crystal, she supposes, but with enough imagination, she'll make do.

Eos finally, finally reaches the pool, not too far from the center of the field where she rests when she's tired, and gently lowers herself to kneel at the banks beside it, in an almost twisted reflection of the same movement she'd made earlier, at the shores of the sea of souls before plunging into the chaos - and she gasps, freezes as she catches a glimpse of her _own_ reflection.

Her eyes _burn_ gold, like two suns, no whites or irises, just pure white-gold like the first light of daybreak; shimmers of an identical light trail all through her skin and down her limbs like the delicate traceries of veins, dimming and intensifying as she breathes.

_Goddess_ , the souls had called her, and she had ignored it. _Special_ , the eidolons had called her, and she had laughed.

_Unique_ , Etro had called her, something entirely new - and she had blushed, but never thought any of those things for herself. For all that she had been living in the Unseen Realm for what could have been millenia for all she knew, she still thought of herself as human; nothing special or unique or important. Certainly not a _goddess._

Now, she knew - even if she had been nothing more than normal before, nothing more than human - she wasn't that now, not when the light of something she could feel was even older than her goddess was working through her.

And so, with that light - the First, the Mother - guiding her, Eos reached out to gently touch against the surface of the water - and where she touched, ripples spread outwards, that fluroscent green sheen of light she had noted dancing on the sea's surface playing around the edges of her pool - that vibrant colour now hers, the same way the light burning inside was.

The water was cool, contrasting with the warmth bubbling up inside her as she dipped her fingers just under the surface, breaking the still skin of the water and laughing lightly as she pulled back, water trailing from her hands. It felt almost as if the warmth, the light - wanted to _play_.

But - this wasn't the _time_. Eos only had so long before Etro came looking for her, and she wanted to get what she was doing _done_ before then, before She had a chance to stop her or talk her out of it.

It couldn't be all that hard, right?

She'd never asked Etro how Her crystal worked - how She used it to see the outside realms; how She used it to _access_ other realms - but in that moment, she didn't _need_ that knowledge, not in so many words. With her hands still trailing delicately over water and the light thrumming eager and new within her, she already _knew_ what she had to do, even if not on a mentally conscious level; her body moving to take the actions it needed to before she even had to put all that much thought into it, as if drawn like a magnet to that guiding light inside of her.

_Remove the chaos and you remove the entropy,_ the voice had said to her, and as far as she could see, there were two major problems with that: one, the chaos only listened (and even then, only barely) to Etro, and Etro alone, given she was as dead as the souls that made it up; and two, humans, mortals, worlds - they _needed_ chaos, needed the free will and sentience and awareness that it gave to them. Remove the chaos and you removed that agency.

Thankfully, Eos had an idea of how to get around that. For the first problem - she wasn't trying to coax the chaos into gently reincarnating; no, she was _tearing_ it from the world of Cosmos, and returning it to the Unseen Realm where it belonged. With the light still roaring through her veins and humming under her skin, it was barely an issue; she _knew_ , just as she had known how to swirl water into a vision, that she was capable of doing such a thing. The second problem was - admittedly a bit more tricky, but still not outside the realm of possibility; Eos did, in fact, have an idea of how to counter it.

Her goddess had told her many stories over time, to amuse her, to interest her - among them, tales of the fal'Cie and l'Cie of Her own mortal world, and how when, _infected_ with powers beyond human and mortal ken, the souls of l'Cie were bound to creatures of chaos in order to stabilise them - th very same eidolons that Eos had grown close to while staying in the Unseen Realm. Her idea basically operated on the same principles - just in reverse. Rather than infusing souls with _more_ chaos to balance out a new rush of power, she'd remove the soul from the body altogether - give it a physical form like the eidolons had, still linked to the human it came from but a seperate entity in and of itself, and thus no longer infecting it with whatever remnants of chaos remained - though, if she did things properly, no chaos should remain at all - but also, with that seperation, bringing humans still a form of agency, freedom; with the souls that had bound them to fate before chaos came along no longer residing within them, they could forge their own paths, their souls at their sides.

It was, as far as she could see, an almost fullproof plan.

Etro would, most likely, be displeased with her - a thought that sent shivers crawling down her spine and hit at her heart with a _pang_ ; for as long as she had known Her, had spent time by Her side in the Unseen Realm, she had never known Etro to be anything other than quietly content, even at Her most melancholy. The very idea of the person she cared about most, in this world or any other, being upset with her - of _Etro_ being angry, disappointed with her - was very close to being terrifying. But...she couldn't just let the world of Cosmos - so wild and beautiful and filled with _colours_ when she had caught a glimpse of it in Etro's crystal, even darkened over by its inevitable and oncoming entropy as it had been - _die_ , not so long as there was something, anything - she could do about it.

And so, taking a deep breath, Eos reached through her pool of water for that sense of _connection,_ for that buzzing that whispered, _Cosmos_ , and _sparked_ a bond between the two of them - the world and her - into blazing, burning, brilliant life. Just beneath the rush of life running tumultous throughout the world, Eos could feel the churning waves of chaos brush under the mantle, settled into the spiritual core of Cosmos - and, sweat breaking out on her brow, she closed her eyes, bowed her head to touch the surface of her pool, and touched against the chaos, gently at first as the souls flittered, unsure of what to make of her - and then, more strongly, as they tasted the essence of Etro, of Etro's presence and favour, within her; once the souls that gathered in the swarm had rushed her in excitement, Eos grabbed a hold of them, held them tight -

\- and _yanked_.

 

 

-x-

Etro's eyes opened.

She didn't recall closing them. With the way time passed in Her Unseen Realm, and caught up in Her task of leading souls to their new worlds, truthfully, She never did. Between one moment and the next, rarely ever did She care.

This time, though, She cared greatly - and felt, deep inside of Her - the 'Her' that was _her_ neither Etro nor the One They had become Together - but Yeul, who had once lost everything and everyone, and now was experiencing that same sensation - _where was Eos?_

Shaking Her head, Etro pulled back from the separation looming that threatened to send Them into a panic, forcing the remnants of Yeul down to where they couldn't affect Her.

"Styria," She said, calling on the eidolon that Eos had grown closest to during her time here, in the Unseen Realm. "Do you know where Eos is?" A chill had swept through Her as a rush of souls had entered the Unseen Realm, more at once then She could remember ever happening before; what remained in Her of centuries, millenia, spent as Her own seeress allowing Her enough intution to _know_ that nothing good would be coming from this.

"No, Divine Lady." Styria's voice was low and lyrical, like the shattering chime of sunlight cracking polar ice, and Etro's lips tugged into a frown as She turned away from Her crystal; from the souls and Her duty - far away but not _too_ far away, the field Eos had claimed as hers lay across the Sea of Souls form Valhalla no longer a bright swirl of human life and love in Her mind's eye. No, it was almost numb to Her, dulled to Her senses and frighteningly empty of the particular storm of chaos She had come to know as Eos'.

She was _not_ going to panic. _She was not going to panic_.

"We need to go to her," She said, and with a blink, a thought - She was there. Well, almost.

Etro frowned down at Her feet, confused by the Sea of Souls that swirled around Her waist, just before the shore at the edge of Eos' field. She'd wanted to appear in the center of the field, where Eos 'lived' and where She would likely find her. Behind Her and just to Her left, Styria hovered over Her shoulder - seemingly just as shocked as She was by the fact that Etro's teleport hadn't worked.

Frowning now, Etro stepped forward to _walk_ into Eos' field - only to be thrown back, rebounded, by a verdant green light that flashed in the shape of a dome that surrounded the island field - no, not a dome but a _sphere,_ Etro saw as She ducked beneath the Sea of Souls, the underside of the field revealing no way for Her access it, either.

"Styria!" She called out as She surfaced. "Fly over and lend Me your eyes; allow Me to see what you see!"

The eidolon of ice nodded once to show she had understood, and then she was gone - flying _over_ the area where the sphere had shone, Etro saw - so it wasn't just Her, somehow eidolons were forbidden access, too -

And then She was seeing through Styria's eyes - and She saw Eos, lying still in the pool of crystal clear water in the center of the field, half submerged, her hair drifting around her like gossamer threads - and She felt a thrill of fear, recognising the light that burned just beneath her skin even through the warped and secondhand view of Styria's eyes, and _knowing_ just what it meant.

" _No,_ " She said. "Oh, no - Eos, what have you done?"

 

 

________

**|lantiqua:** !!! you'll never guess what i've found.

**|v_sil:** what, digging around in that desert of yours? sand? weevils?

**|v_sil:** bandits?

**|lantiqua:** haha. no, it's way cooler than that

**|v_sil:** well??? don't keep me in suspense.

**|lantiqua:** i can't say anything now - but i'll email the doc to you later; i think this might be the breakthrough we were looking for...if slightly less scientific then we were hoping.

**|v_sil:** what? no, laurel, don't go offline, what do you mean?

**|v_sil:** LAUREL

**|v_sil:** dammit.

 

 

>  
> 
> **TO: vsilver@aspenmail.com.eos**
> 
> **FROM: lantiqual@hugskothouse.eos**
> 
> **SUBJECT: Find attached...**
> 
> The_Figure_Lying_Asleep_In_The_Fantasy_(partial).docx
> 
>  

**|v_sil:** are you

**|v_sil:** are you SERIOUS laurel 

**|lantiqua:** IT'S LEGIT I SWEAR.

**|lantiqua:** so i was digging around the actual _ruin_ parts of solheim. like, out in the desert. and i find??? this huge mural? and i'm super sho

**|lantiqua:** shocked to NOT recognise it, because its huge? and beautiful? and _elaborate?_ like, all these pictures _clearly_ showing scenes from some mythology _i_ don't know and with all this ancient sol engraved all over it too, it's totally something you'd think someone would have 'discovered' and excavated to put in a musuem back home by now, it's not like this place is exactly _private_

**|lantiqua:** only no-one has. so i'm staring at this mural in wonder, and then i realise i recognise two of the figures - Eos, and the lucian Lady.

**|v_sil:** where'd you get the c r a z y story from then. you have someone translate the sol?

**|lantiqua:** no, not yet - it's a dead language, just because this is the ancestral land of these people doesn't mean they can read the glyphs scrawled everywhere.

**|lantiqua:** apparently it's a pretty common folktale around here? how eos created the world and 'etro' mourned her. it's a tragedy. like the dragon-bride tales back home.

**|v_sil:** and, equally like them, fake, i imagine.

**|lantiqua:** not necessarily! all myths have a grain of truth in them, somewhere. and this proves that lucis isn't just a bunch of crazy heretics! their Lady existed somewhere before their kingdom was even a marsh. solheim is the oldest place in the whole of Eos! the cosmogony was written here as the cities around me became the ruins they are today! whether or not Eos and Etro really were in love or even existed at all, the point stands that there is a lot to learn here!

**|lantiqua:** you threw me off course D: i was _trying_ to say that apparently, the people here don't know the whole tale? i showed them the pics i took of the mural and what they have is apparently only part of the story? there's a huge chunk of the story in the mural they didn't know about, so i'm extending my trip a bit longer to try and see if i can find more, or find a translator.

**|v_sil:** send the pics through to me. i'll see if anyone in gralea has any clue where to start.

**|lantiqua:** i thought you didn't believe me?

**|v_sil:** i think you're kind of mad, but whatever, you're my friend. if you want to destroy your reputation chasing fairytales then that is absolutely your prerogative, and i'll be cheering you on the whole way.

**|lantiqua:** that may just be the nicest thing you've ever said to me. 

>    
>   
> 
> 
> **TO: vsilver@aspenmail.com.eos**
> 
> **FROM: lantiqual@hugskothouse.eos**
> 
> **SUBJECT: pics/proposed calendar if it turns out...**
> 
> 01.jpg | 02.jpg | 03.jpg | 04.jpg | 05.jpg | 06.jpg | 07.jpg  
>   
> 
> 
> Making some headway with the translation! Admittedly, rough headway, but any progress is still progress!
> 
> Extending my trip again. Old man was _pissed_ when I asked for an extension. I think he'll pull my funding, soon. When that happens, I'm counting on you to send me care packages!
> 
> I kid, I kid. However! If you really want to help me, sending my copy of the Cosmogony as well as the most serious/oldest edition of the Cosmosis you can get your hands on? I've managed to draw together a vague calendar/timeline from what I've gotten out of my translation, and if I'm right, Eos as a whole is a _lot_ older than what we expected - that 'folktale,' is looking to be more and more true, huh?
> 
> I'll email you again next big breakthrough! Or your birthday, whichever comes first - only two weeks away! Sorry I won't be able to make it in person ;_;
> 
> 1038 C.E. (Cosmos Era, 3000~ years before Current Era)
> 
> 2053 C.E. (Also reffered to as the Advent of Nadir, here? You know, the 'mad prophet?' - 01 A.C. (After Cosmos)) 1000~ years before Current Era (The things these people have to say about Cosmos? Apparently 'first generation divine' - eos/etro second generation, astrals third?.)
> 
> 246 A.C. (After Cosmos - Eos Era - 756~ years before canon - fall of Solheim - advent of current era - 01 A.F. (After Fall; the arrival of the Astral Shards) (Essentially our Current Era starts here, with the advent of the Astral Shards and the official formation of the Oracles of Eos?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also appreciate all the HTML that went into this. _appreciate it._


End file.
